


Mistletoe

by Sombraline



Series: Tale of Trust [2]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombraline/pseuds/Sombraline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was not bothering anyone. You can ask your friends in the kitchen.”</p><p>“Will do, Rudolph.”</p><p>“My nose is not shiny.”</p><p>“So you finally got the reference."</p><p>Loki loves the taste of winter and chaos and traditions that Christmas brought all around Stark Tower. It doesn't mean that he knows what to do when the friend with benefits that is Stark invites him to join the party on the 24th of December.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up (finally!) to Jailbait, although it probably can be read as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Recap: Teen!Loki (from Marvel Comic Agent of Asgard) came to Tony (from Marvel's Cinematic Universe) in hope of having sex with him. It worked.

Loki stiffled a little sigh of well-being before it could get pass his lips, stretching his back in a deep arch before he curled back up on himself on the comfortable, huge leather couch, eyes shut and a thin smile upon his lips. 

He couldn't remember a time when he ever had felt so utterly good before. Not everything was fine, of course. It never was. It probably would never be. But for once, the pleasant feelings were simply too powerful, too overwhelming for his eternal negativity to resurface through it all. He knew it was temporary, evidently, and he knew that the delay offered to him would be a short one. 

But that was only more reasons to enjoy it while it lasted, wasn't it?

He took a deep, slow breath, as he adjusted his arms underneath his head in a makeshift pillow, and found himself bringing his legs up a little higher against his chest, feeling ready to take a nap. The smell of the Christmas tree was light, but characteristic and unique; joining it was the deep, ancient, spicy perfume of the fire that was slowly burning in the fireplace. On Loki's tongue, it tasted like traditions and emotions he barely knew anything of, but that somehow managed to fill his heart with excitement and joy. 

He pressed his lips together to hold back a large grin.

He loved Christmas. 

It was ridiculous, but it was how it was. He loved Christmas. And he loved Christmas in Stark Tower. 

In the kitchen, he could distantly hear the Avengers speaking. Romanoff and the most recently adopted hero of the team, a man of the name of Sam Wilson, were teasing Steven Rogers and his friend Barnes. The voices were cheery but muffled through the walls, and he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago, but he thought it was something about making fun of the two 'old' men -it had all started by Barton asking Rogers how Christmas was celebrated in their time, and if “Santa” had even been invented before he went under the ice.

Loki had learned a few days ago only who was the big, bearded old man in a red suit that smiled at him and tried to sell him cars and beer everytime he turned the TV on since the first of december. He had been quite charmed by the naïve concept, and sort of amused of seeing how the old tales of Odin's Wild Hunt during Yule had changed to make him a generous giftgiver sneaking into people's chimneys at night to give presents to children. He had done his researches, in Stark's books and on the Internet, until he understood most of what the celebration was. 

It was sweet, and it hurted, stupidly, too. 

He curled up a little more on himself on the couch, to hold his warmth to himself as he took in another deep breath of the sweet smell. The inhabitants of Stark Tower were most obviously enthusiastic about the holiday, as attested the decorations that had been set up all around the penthouse, the smell of homemade Christmas cookies and the regular playing of traditional songs through JARVIS' speakers. More than that, the atmosphere was one of anticipation and preparations, with only a few days to go to the 24th; one after the other, the Avengers had wrapped up boxes and bags of all size and colors, and put them under the (natural; Rogers and Barton both had insisted for it, he had heard it happening) guirland-covered tree. By now, there were boxes reaching as far as the side of the fireplace, waiting to be opened.

Sneakily, during the previous night, Loki had made his way to the living room. He was not forbidden to come in the Tower, far from it, and the Avengers were pretty much used to seeing him around, by now, but he had wanted to be alone. As everyone slept in the Tower, he had looked at each box, each little tag, detailed Banner's awful gift-wrapping skills, Romanoff's unexpectedly messy handwriting, and he had tried to guess -without a hint of a spell- what every present was, and how the one receiving it would react. 

It was a nice tradition, Christmas. 

He had heard there were some interesting shows about it on TV, on the 24th and the 25th. Maybe he could celebrate from afar, at home. 

Alone. 

He smiled weakly at himself. Of course, alone. Who would be there? Verity would be with her family. Thor had denied Tony's invitation, claiming he and Jane would spend the holiday at her mother's place. And that was... mostly it. 

It was a strange tradition, too, Christmas. Making him feel nostalgic of things he had only read and heard about, and never actually experienced.

He opened an eye when someone's voice got louder in the kitchen, before Rogers bursted out laughing at something Barnes had said. He nuzzled up the pillow of the couch, as though he was trying to bask into the sounds as much as into the smell, the air of december. 

“It's three in the afternoon. Why are you taking a nap?” 

He jumped at the sound of T -Stark's voice, sitting abruptly in the couch and pushing the pillow away as though it was the weapon of an atrocious crime he had just been linked to. How had he sneaked up on him? The billionair held a mug in hand, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by his quick reaction. 

“I was not sleeping”, Loki replied finally, managing a light tone. “Merely enjoying your couch. I need one like that for my appartment.”

“Yeah, you do. That thing you have in front of your TV looks like it reached the point where it can legally drink, unlike you. My back still hurts from that last time”, Stark sneered, sitting by his side. “Seriously, though, you bother doing the trip here just to sleep on my couch?”

“I was not sleeping”, the god repeated, rolling his eyes. “I came here to give you back some of your books, and I took a few minutes for myself. Beside, I was not bothering anyone. You can ask your friends in the kitchen.”

“Will do, Rudolph.”

“My nose is not shiny.”

“So you finally got the reference”, Tony smirked. 

“Yeah.” 

He did not answer the smile, lowering his eyes to the floor. Even without looking up, he could still see some of the gifts wrapped in blue paper and rather precariously piled up by Clint. He pretended to yawn, and stretched his back, as if to stand up.

“I should get going, then, if I am so unwanted here. Unless you came here to grant me attention?” He added, flashing a teasing smile to the hero. “Is that why you're here? To, mmh, entertain me?”

“Yeah, most definitely”, Ton -Stark replied with a very serious nod. “I planned to spread your legs and make you beg for the most obscenes things you can imagine, right on the couch where half the team can and will walk upon us.”

“I never knew you had an exhibition kink. Surely it is something we can come to fulfill, if you wish for it.”

He was half-teasing, half-not. He and Stark had... experimented, since that first embarrassing, delicious time when he had had to admit to the mortal that he had no practical experience of sex, at all, and had been granted more than he had hoped for. Ever since, there had been many more occasions for them to become more familiar with each other, in secret, most in Stark Tower, twice in Loki's appartment. 

Each time had been delightful in its own way, really. He had nothing to complain about. Stark was attentionate, patient, and obviously knew what he was doing. More than that, he was skilled, shameless, and knew how to drive Loki to madness with barely a few words or a single teasing caress before they even took off their clothes. He didn't even seem to be getting bored of the young god, unlike what he had almost expected at the beginning. Yet, everytime, with less surprise in everything that the mortal did to him, even if there was just as much pleasure in it for him every time, Loki found himself a little more in a hurry of leaving the company of the human. 

It was strange. He didn't feel bored or jaded of what they did; quite the opposite, really, as he found himself waiting for the billionair's hints eagerly in between each occasion, excited for it to happen again and again. There simply was that shadow of shame that made him leave the bed as soon as they were done -or as soon as he woke, as he sometimes couldn't help but drift off in the man's warm arms.

“Nah, no thanks”, Stark replied, sitting on the couch and patting the cushion to his side as he took a sip of his mug. “Never really was my thing, despite what a few tabloids with some totally out of context pictures might claim. I suggest we wait at least until Captain Spangles and his boyfriend are out of the room. So, anyway, what were you doing all alone in my living room? Do I have to check the presents for snakes or other surprises, Trickster?”

“I didn't do anything to the gifts, scout's honor. JARVIS can witness, I really just took a few minutes to rest. Was that a real invitation, Stark?”

“Depends. Might be, if you're interested.”

“Anything in your mind? Perhaps you wish for something memorable enough to keep it in your pants throughout your holidays, as I suppose you will be quite busy.”

“And you won't?”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki raised an eyebrow as he looked at Stark, meeting those warm brown eyes for a brief instant before he glanced down at the content of his mug instead. The smell was strange, the color unexpected. Was that what eggnog was? It was an interesting question. He had read about that tradition without going into the details. He would have to get a look on the Google, later, to find out what eggnog even really was.

“I asked”, and Stark's voice was insisting enough that he had to look up from the possible eggnog once more, a little reluctantly, “if you weren't going to be busy on Christmas.”

Somehow, the situation suddenly started to feel deeply uncomfortable. Loki wished he hadn't taken his time and hadn't curled up on that couch, 'just for five minutes'. He shrugged, a smile making it up on his lips. 

“Honestly, Stark? I knew you had no diplomatic skills whatsoever, but to ask a Viking God if he has plans for a Christian holiday?”

“Thor's celebrating”, the human observed, seemingly not impressed. “Are you seriously holding a grudge to this holiday? Because I might have to remind you that nobody here is celebrating anything but the glory of capitalism. Except Rogers and maybe Bruce, I doubt anyone's going to think much of little Jesus, no need for you pagan gods to be jealous.”

“I am not jealous, merely uninterested. I have no plan to celebrate.”

“Uh. So, no gifts for you?”

“We were talking about having sex, a minute ago”, Loki reminded Stark, glancing at him sideways. “Where did that conversation go?” 

“Loki. You were practically doing improper things to that pillow when I walked in. Can we not drop that topic yet?”

“Are you trying to reproach something to me?”

“I'm trying to ask you what you're hiding from me -which, for the god of lies, not a success. You're acting weird today. What is it?”

“Have I no right to behave differently than I usually do?”

His voice had turned dry and cold, hoping the topic would be dropped in favor of a more familiar ground. He looked at Stark, determined to express nothing but confusion and growing annoyance at the man's questioning. The human frowned, now, though, staring back unimpressed, and Loki mentally cursed. 

“JARVIS said you'd been here all night long practically cuddling the Christmas presents, Rudolph”, Stark said finally, his voice and features cold as the young god's had been. “I didn't even checked them for a bomb yet, because I'm willing to trust you, as you might have figured when I offered you to switch, but I'd like an explanation. What's bothering you so much? You can't honestly be so butt-hurt over the fact that Yule or whatever isn't a thing anymore and Christmas is.”

“I told you I cared not for what celebrations you stupid Midgardians hold!”

His voice had risen and broken in anger before he had been able to catch up on it, and he immediately cursed himself for his lack of self control when Stark stood abruptly. He glanced at the kitchen, as though making sure he had back-ups. Strangely, it hurted. Loki smiled. 

“So much for trust, isn't it?”

“What's wrong with you?” To -Stark asked, shaking his head slightly, still frowning.

“Nothing at all. You're the one insisting to hold a conversation that's over with.”

“Then tell me what you're doing looking at that tree like it murdered your newborn baby.”

The stubborness he knew so well in Stark's eyes was back, decided and unpledging. Loki glanced at the above mentioned tree, then sighed deeply, his anger melting into something not unlike resignation. He shook his head slightly and hesitated for a moment before he shrugged, feeling tired and a little stupid. Oh, how he wished he simply had gone home. 

“You ever saw Thor in a natural thunderstorm?”

“...What does that have to do with anything?” The human asked, his frown turning confused. 

“Sit down.” He leaned back against the couch's cushions himself, and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Thor's magic is largely out of his control. He uses it through Mjölnir; if you will, she takes the magic in him like any of your earthly technology takes electricity, to turns it into the energy it needs. Nevertheless, the magic still is born from Thor's magical core, and runs through him like blood.”

“Your point in that is?”

“His magic is deeply linked to storms, and rains and lightnings. It's its nature, is all. When there is a storm, not of his doing, but natural, his magic... connects, if you will, to it. It makes him more powerful, his magic more wild, and, overall, it makes him... happy.” Stark still looked at him as though he had gone mad, and so he carried on, ashamed. “I feel some... excitement, around Christmas. My magic is one of chaos, and snow, and mischief. I control those powers far better than Thor ever took the time to. It is an even bigger part of me. In the matter, this is a... rather fulfilling moment of the year.”

“...That's your big issue with the thing? You enjoy it, so you're angry?”

“I am not. All I said was that I was leaving, and you started to insist like a petulant child.”

“So, if you're not angry, will you come celebrate with us on the twenty-fourth?”

“...Why would I do such a thing? I have no desire to ruin the evening for your friends”, Loki commented, although now looking at the human in growing confusion.

“Look, just -come for the food, will you? We'll have the turkey and everything around six. Comes at five thirty, bring a bottle of wine or honeymead or whatever”, Stark insisted. “If you really are bored to death, then leave. Just, will you do that? For me?”

“...Why do you care so about me being there?”

He couldn't help but feel his insides cold as his brain ran faster than he wanted to. His mind ran to last Yule, to Thor imprisoned, to a brutal beating in a dark alley being his only gift for the solstice; to limping away with his hands in his pockets and a bird on his shoulder for all company, and only laughs and indifference when he met celebrating 'friends' in the streets of Asgard. 

Loki was Loki and Loki was alone, the bird had remarked quietly, even as he sat down with a Starkphone in hand and looked up Midgardian traditions for the first time. Being with people bred pain and pain bred hatred and hatred would bring him back where he had been when the poisoned elvish blade had torn his heart in two. 

Stark was in his life because they each had something to offer to the other. Business was the safest way to hold relationships. 

But eventually, he had expected the mortal to get tired of him. If that time had come and Stark wanted to end their time together, it was not unlike the man to end it with a bang, wasn't it? The mortal gave no hint of having any ill intentions toward him, but Loki valued him for his brilliant mind like he valued him for the rest. 

He'd rather walk away by himself than leave another holiday night covered in bruises and shame and hatred in his heart. 

But the human just shook his head, giving him nor hint nor reassurances as he smiled and stood, glancing at him. 

“I just think it would be fun to have you around on that night, Trickster. The others won't mind, Cap already brought two lost puppies with him, Rhodey will join in, probably Phil too. And really?” He waited for Loki to meet his eyes before grinning. “You enjoy chaos at Christmas, you'll get the most of it in this Tower. So, it's a deal?”

He offered Loki a hand, and the young god stared quietly, hesitating, considering the situation. The logical, the safe choice was to refuse, to stay home, to forget about this and hope the human would, too. 

After a moment, he took Stark's hand, and shook it, bowing his head quietly. 

“It's a deal. I'll be there at five forty.”

\--------------

It seemed Manhattan had exploded in manifestations of joy and excitation when the twenty-fourth came. The frenzy in the airs had reached its peak from the early morning on, as eager shoppers rushed to get their last gifts packed and their Christmas meals prepared for them; the gently falling snow covering the sidewalks and the parks of the city only brought more to it. In the early darkness of winter, Loki walked through the colorfully lightened streets, glancing at the displays of early-closing stores and practically feeling his blood boiling in his veins.

Twice already, he had stopped where he was standing, turned on his heels and walked back toward home whilst shaking his head for himself. Twice already, he had sighed, turned back and forced himself to carry on toward Stark Tower, torn by familiar fear of making a mistake, and the even more familiar sensation of hearing, of feeling the party going on without him, all around the city and the country. It was almost by accident that he found himself being allowed into the Tower by an always polite JARVIS, a bottle of cider under his arm, and he shifted a little nervously during the entire elevator trip to the penthouse floor. 

He wasn't sure what he had expected; maybe the Avengers and their friends all gathered around a huge banquet table as they did in Asgard, boasting loudly and raising their glasses, to then glance at him in annoyance when they'd seen him, or maybe a completely empty room while the group celebrated somewhere else; what he found was actually so normal he wondered for a moment if he had come a day early. 

To his right, in the living room, Romanoff, Barton and Wilson were watching what appeared to be Christmas cartoons, grinning and eating pistachios as they did, in their pyjamas. On his left, Potts, Rogers and Barnes were setting the table with plates and festive handtowels, chatting quietly and sometimes glancing at the TV screen. The Soldier looked up to see who had just walked in and smiled, walking toward Loki and offering him a hand to shake. 

“Hey, so you finally came. Merry Christmas, Loki.”

“Yeah, the same to you”, he offered awkwardly, extending his greetings to the other Avengers who had briefly looked at him. A small choir of “M'rry Christmas” answered him before the humans returned to their more pressing matters, making him smile a little bit more sincerely. 

Earth's Mightiest Heroes, watching children's shows in pyjama and excitedly preparing the table for dinner. If only for that sight, it had been worth coming. 

“Where's Tony?” He asked Rogers as he gave him the bottle of cider to remove his boots more easily. 

“He left half an hour ago, said he had a last little errand to run. While you wait, you can watch the TV with the guys, if you want, or Bruce might use some help in the kitchen.”

“I will, thanks”, Loki confirmed, glancing at the blond's retreating back curiously nonetheless. The group obviously knew that he had grown closer to their friend; but he was quite certain he would have been met with a vibranium shield in the face, had they known just how close. He and Stark had to walk a careful thread there, and once more, he wondered why the mortal had invited him at all on a evening he planned to spend with his friends. 

He had no more time to ask himself questions when he went into the kitchen to help Banner, though. The man had him preparing homemade lemonade and cranberrie sauce while he and, occasionnally, Potts and the American Boyfriends helping him, worked on a huge turkey that looked like it could feed three hungry Aesirs. Loki's hesitation on how to behave around the team slowly melted in favor of following the general glee, a grin upon his face while surrounded by the feel of enthusiasm and light panic in the perfumed air of the tower.

“I'm home, kids!” A loud and cheerful voice called from the elevator just as he finished to decorate the lemonade with a few slices of lemons, and he found his heart starting to beat harder as he heard the others Avengers greeting Stark. 

Because his return meant they would get on with the celebrations, of course. Because of it. 

It wasn't like they would sleep together on such a night, afterall. 

“Did my favorite Trickster join us?” He heard the human saying as he washed his hands, and he felt Rogers's eyes on him as he quickly walked out of the kitchen to come exactly face to face with the mortal. 

“Stark”, he greeted, a thin smile on his lips. 

“Kiss me, Loki”, the man ordered, making his heart stop for a beat. Then the Midgardian grinned and pointed at the mistletoe above their head. “No exceptions to the rule, even for Norse Gods.”

Ah.

“Leave the poor kid alone, Tony”, Potts reproached, shaking her head. 

“Nay, nay, it's fine”, Loki assured, once more bringing a smile up to his lips. He kissed the human on his cheek, trying not to touch him too much. “I once killed a man with mistletoe, while we speak of fun traditions.”

“No villainous talk at the Christmas party!” Barton called from where he was, causing a few laughters, including Loki's. 

“What's that you got there, Tony?” Rogers questioned, gesturing to the elegantly wrapped gift Stark carried under his arm. 

“Ah-ah, surprise, surprise”, Stark smiled. “No gifts will be opened before we're done with that delicious dinner I smell, we gotta wait for Santa to come while we look away. By the way, children, if you're done with the movies, I think we're pretty much ready?”

“I might need a bit of help to bring the turkey in”, Banner observed. 

“We'll help”, Barnes assured.

“Always helpful, Captain Hook. I'll just go find a tag for this thing, I'll meet y'all for dinner”, Stark concluded, patting Loki's shoulder lightly. “You too, Reindeer Games. I'm happy you could come.”

“So am I”, Loki assured, smiling softly. 

He liked this holiday, so far. He still felt like an intruder in the party, but when did he not?

They had to squeeze themselves together on slightly misfitting chairs around the table to all fit around the huge turkey and the other service plates. Loki found himself between Wilson and Banner, and soon Tony was on the other side of the table, between Barnes and Barton. His move to grab a service spoon and attack the fried potatoes was interrupted by Roger's hand on his wrist. Not everyone joined their hands as a prayer of gratitute was pronounced, but all waited through it respectfully before they returned to the plates.

Loki took what he was offered with curiosity, filling his plate with turkey and potatoes and cranberries and salad as the others did. Little moans of approval were heard around the table as the first bites were taken. 

“Whatever spices you used for that turkey, Bruce, you need to teach your magic to the cooks I hire in those receptions”, Stark said on a definite tone.

“No idea of the english name for those things, I picked them up in India”, Banner replied with a smile, “but thanks for that.”

“You went to India?” Barnes questioned, raising an eyebrow. “When?”

“Er, from 2010 to 2012, something like that? It's not really passionating, I was just... hiding, actually. I worked as a doctor. Why? You've been to India?”

Within minutes, Loki found out with a bit of surprise that Aesirs and humans really were alike in some matters. The feast (for what else could it be called?) had turned to the story-telling night, with each bringing memories and tales to the conversation and asking for details from others. Loki followed each story with interest, as Romanoff and Barton spoke of insane missions all around the world and as Stark talked of his own efforts to defy decency and proper manners in every country he had visited. Rogers and Barnes managed to convince the rest of the team for a few minutes that there had in fact been a legion of vampires in Hitler's side of the war before, in the middle of a tale about how they had saved a village of a troop of vampire on a long-passed Christmas eve, the dark-haired soldier had bursted out laughing at Barton's expressions.

“What about you, Loki?” Wilson asked with a smile after the laughters faded. “Got any interesting Christmas Stories?”

He was so surprised by the question that he was speechless for a moment, looking around the table to see the Avengers looking back at him, waiting for his words. For once, he had absolutely no idea what to say, having simply listened to the stories the way he usually listened to Thor and his friends talking of old battles again and again, never expecting to have anything to say about it.

“...W-well, Christmas isn't... exactly celebrated on Asgard, actually”, he offered finally, after an hesitating glance at Stark. “But we do have a holiday for Yule, on the twenty-first of december, the solstice? There is little to say, though. Usually, there is a great feast, and songs and tales, but frankly, nothing of much interest.”

“Well, you can give us one of these tales, if you feel like it”, Banner offered while reserving some turkey to all of those who didn't have the courage to refuse, even if the plates had been emptied twice already. “I'm curious about what you talk about in Asgard.”

“Or a song, if you prefer”, Barton commented with a hint of sarcasm, making Romanoff smirk.

“You know, Clint, there's a karaoke game somewhere not far, I'm sure...”

“There might be a tale I know rather well”, Loki admitted before the archer could protest, “but I know not if it is careful to retale it to Thor's friends. He might not appreciate to know that you heard it.”

“This is becoming far more interesting than expected”, Stark grinned, suddenly leaning forward to look at Loki with interest. “Do tell us, please.”

Words of approval were offered by the rest of the team, seemingly made curious by that introduction, and Loki poorly hid a smile as he decided where to start.

“It was about four hundred years ago, maybe five, when Asgard was at war with the fire giants of Muspelheim. Now, the giants had powerful sorcerers by their side, many more than Asgard ever held, and by one day, Thor woke up the entire palace shouting to know who had dared stolen Mjölnir from him. You must keep in mind that in terms of how years pass in Asgard, he would have been a seventeen year old human or so -and at the time, he was far more volatile and prompt to losing his temper than he is today. He would have ravaged the entire Realm for his hammer. We split up to go in search of Mjölnir, me, him, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif; sneakily, of course, as Odin had forbidden for us to go on such a foolish quest in the middle of an open war. We followed Thor through the sewers of the castle for a few long hours of embarrassing and stinking efforts to search our path out, and in lack of horses to borrow, we had to share his two goats and Volstagg's father's pigs, but that is a longer tale than what you want to hear. What matters is that in the one, I was the one to find the hammer, or to be more precisely found by the giant who had stolen it...”

He was surprisingly not interrupted through the tales, the Avengers all listening and looking at him curiously. He told his story, taking confidence in the growing smiles that followed his explanations; he told them of how the giant had demanded for Freyja's hand, and how Freyja had been so insulted by Thor's demand to comply to it that she had had him chased up into a tree by her faithful cats. He told them of his own idea of disguising Thor as a woman and of the trip to Muspelheim in dresses stolen to their mother, and by the time he reached the final battle that had concluded the story, Stark was laughing so hard his face had turned red, while Barton slapped his knee and Romanoff shed a tear; himself had some difficulties carrying on talking without smirking too much. 

“A-and so, and so, Thor finally grabbed Mjölnir again, and he immediately gave out an absolutely terrifying war cry-”, strangled chuckles and Wilson's deep laughter had him pausing for a second, trying to keep his face serious, “and he started to run around the banquet table, holding his skirts with one hand a-and Mjölnir with the other above his head, and puffing with all his strenght t-to get the veil out of his face, and... And Thrym ran after him asking his sweet, sweet little amber flower what was wrong with her-”

He had to interrupt himself, his own cheeks hurting from holding back his smile, and he had to burst out laughing with the humans around him.

“Jesus Christ, Loki, if there are more stories like that you have to tell, you're welcome to stay here forever. Fuck, my stomach ache -h-how come that nobody ever told us of that story before?” Barton scoffed. 

“Oh god, I ate too much”, Potts said, her cheeks flushed as she ran a hand over her stomach. “No more stories until I digest some of this, alright?”

“How about digesting under the Christmas Tree?” Barton immediately picked up.

Loki grinned more confidently than he had since he had walked in the Tower as the Avengers nodded approvingly and as Wilson still patted his shoulder approvingly, thanking him for the mental pictures. He felt himself taller on his chair, and satisfied and happy in a way that the delicious meat and the wonderful smell of the tree and the sound of the music on the radio had not managed. And even though he had brought no gifts and would receive none, he smiled just as approvingly as everyone else in the room did. 

They cleaned up the table all together and moved toward the living room, sitting on the ground while Romanoff took over the tree aera to start the gifts distribution. Loki watched from the couch as each present was unwrapped, as the thanks were given. Resting his head in his hands as Barnes and Rogers glared at Tony's inappropriate present, as Romanoff gave a silver necklace to Barton he put on shamelessly, as Bruce looked at Pepper unwrapping a beautiful dress. His head was buzzing slightly, but in a pleasant way, in a food and warmth and ambiance induced stupor, as he played with a golden ribbon that had been lost in his way.

“Who's that present for, Nat? Me again?” Clint asked.

“Nah, that's for Thor, actually. Anyone knows when he'll come and visit?”

“I think he spoke of New Year's Eve? Get another gift, he'll get his later!”

“Alright, this one... Fancy wrapping, Stark, I'd bet you didn't make it yourself. This one is for... Loki. In golden and red?”

“I'm an humble man”, Stark grinned as Loki abruptly looked up, confused, to see the Russian spy holding to the large box Tony had walked in with earlier, holding it up for him. He stood to get it, frowning in disbelief. 

“I have nothing for you”, he observed quietly. 

“I'll give you a few ideas for next year, don't worry about it”, Stark commented with a grin. “Come on, open it.”

Loki did, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he was attentive not to tear up the paper. He placed the ribbon over an impatient Clint's head, opening the wooden box he found in it carefully, before he looked up at Stark in confusion.

“I asked Thor”, the billionair commented as though it was nothing, his glass in hand. “He said there was little you liked to do that required you having anything. Like, throwing daggers, you have forged yours better than any I can buy on old Earth. Lockpicking, you do that with magic, disguising, you use spells. But your bro did remember that you liked dancing and singing, don't laugh, Clint, and we figured together that you might like to have this. If not, I can get you something else. Chocolate, world domination, whatever it is, though, it'll wait for a few weeks.”

Loki did not answer, his startled eyes back onto the beautiful violin into the box. His finger ran over the carefully carved wood, caressing the strings. It was obvious it was an expensive item, a unique one; and indeed, as he carefully took the bow out of the box, he found the word Loki carefully encarved in it. No Odinson, no Laufeyson, just Loki. 

“...It is a gorgeous instrument, Anthony Stark”, he said quietly, a disbelieving smile twisting his lips. “I will work hard to make the best use of it. My deepest gratitude.”

“Don't mention it, Rudolph”, the human smiled over his glass of wine. “Who's next, Romanoff?”

But for all his careless tone, Tony kept looking at him even as the russian spy picked the next gift under the tree and gave it to Potts. He kept looking at him and smiling, and Loki stared back, holding to the violin with a warm shiver in his heart.

Business, he tried to repeat himself, business was what they offered each other. Business and a good deal, and nothing else in between. But his smile trembled with emotions he didn't know if he, or his old self had ever lived before as he looked back at the human. 

He always had felt the delicious chaos of Christmas, the taste of snow and gifts, and panic and good food and traditions and love. He had loved to look around him and be surrounded by delicious and innocent mischief and joy, but it was an entirely new feeling to have its strange magic in his own heart.

When the gifts were done being wrapped, the Avengers split up again, moving to the kitchen to prepare the dessert or to their room to change into their pajamas, for those who didn't have them on from the start. Loki had remained seated, holding to the instrument in his arms, and Tony had offered to pick up the many torn up wrappings around the room. When they were left alone, the human gently pulled him up by an arm, toward the corner of the room where another branch of mistletoe hung from the ceiling. Tony kissed his lips and Loki kissed them back, having no idea what his life was turning to in Tony Stark's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I think a third part will conclude this epic romance sooner or later. Eheh.


End file.
